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dlerner75
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Name: David
Birthday: 9/3/1975
Gender: Male
Interests: Pleasing God, Playing the drums, Reading, Writing, Photography, Listening to Music, Writing Music (occasionally), Critiquing Music, Critiquing Myself, Tony Kornheiser
Expertise: Thinking of myself as someone important enough to write a blog that the world will ignore...
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
2/13/2006
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| I have, for the most part, maintained a vow of silence regarding this year's political circus. There are plenty of people who have been perfectly willing to discuss how and why they will vote, and I've read/listened to what they have to say (or at least, as much as I could stomach). Some of them I agreed with, some of them not so much.
God knows there are a multitude of issues to look at when deciding how to vote, and different people will prioritize those issues in different ways. When talking about the issues, I have heard people discuss how Jesus would vote, and quote various scriptures to verify their point of view. However, what continues to run through my head is Matthew 22:34-40:
But when the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees with his reply, they met together to question him again. One of them, an expert in religious law, tried to trap him with this question: "Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?" Jesus replied, "'You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments." (NLT)
Today, my friend Tony Penny posted a link to a compelling blog that The Atlantic's Andrew Sullivan has written. It's thought-provoking, it's well-written, and I couldn't dream of saying it any better than Mr. Sullivan has. And on various levels it makes me think about what Jesus considered to be the two most important commandments, and how that would inform his decisions if he were voting tomorrow... | | |
| Yesterday marked the 33rd anniversary of my arrival here on Planet Earth. It was a low-key affair, celebrated mostly by a deluge of birthday wishes on my Facebook wall and email inbox. At the end of the day, however, I experienced a gentle reminder from God about how, no matter what our circumstances are, we all share some of the same fears.
Last night, Nikki and I met a few dear friends down in Virginia to see Dave Barnes perform for about the seventh or eighth time since I blogged about his goodness again and again last year. After the show (which was as great as ever), everybody took off, but Nikki and I decided to stick around and say hey to Dave when he came out from backstage. What we didn't expect, however, was for Dave to make a bee-line for us when there were plenty of other people waiting to meet him. We also didn't expect for him to occasionally pause his conversation with us to hang out and take pictures with the other folks who were waiting there. Most of all, we didn't expect him to want to keep talking to us when everybody else had left.
And what I learned from our conversation is that we all wonder if we're doing what God wants us to be doing. We all of us have the tendency to walk through doors that God has opened for us, and immediately start second-guessing whether we made the right choice. Even when God is clearly in the middle of our both the decision-making process and the decision itself, we still will most likely run into the issue of unmet expectations. We have an idea in our minds that when I make decision (a), God will immediately bless it by doing (b), (c), (d) and (e). And when it doesn't come immediately, we start to wonder if it will come at all. Questions start filling our minds, and things start to feel a little murky.
Whether it's a job offer, a business deal, a marriage proposal, or whatever it may be, we walk through all of our decisions with certain expectations. More often than not, those expectations aren't met, or else the meeting of expectations comes in a different way or in a different package than we were looking for. And it seems to get harder as we get older, and we start to wonder if life will ever work quite like we expected it to. But, when our courage is a little stronger, we keep taking those tentative steps along the journey, and pray for just enough light to not fall off the path.
Hopefully, Dave was encouraged by our conversation as much as we were. Because that conversation was why yesterday was one of my best birthdays yet. And it didn't even have anything to do with my birthday... | | |
| It's strange, the way events and emotions can hold court in your heart sometimes. The thing that I've had the most trouble making peace with in my adult years is that conflicting emotions can play out in your life simultaneously.
Last week, I found out that my 86-year-old grandfather had been diagnosed with bone cancer. In spite of his weak state, and in spite of the concerns that his daughters had about his body's ability to handle chemotherapy and a cornucopia of medications, he decided to plunge head first into chemo treatments and try to fight back. This morning, I received an unexpected phone call from my mother. She was on her way to the hospital to meet my grandmother and two of my aunts. They need to all talk about what steps to take next. His kidneys are failing. His heart is failing. The clock apparently is winding down, much, much, too much sooner than I expected.
About an hour ago, I received an unexpected phone call from Pastor Adam Vuma in South Africa. It has been two years since last I saw him, and probably about a year since last I spoke with him on the phone. Calls with him are always brief, because the phone cards that he purchases for international calls don't seem to last very long. He wants to come back and visit the States next year. His church is vibrant and growing. His family is doing well. The money is gone on the phone card, so he'll talk to us later. "Take care, King David..."
These are two men that I want to see again very badly. Nikki and I have been planning a trip to Indiana for the first week of September. Part of my reason for taking this trip is because Grandma and Grandpa are getting further and further down the road, and you just never know how many more visits you have left with them. I'd been planning on sitting down with them, and for the first time in my adult life, telling them how much I appreciate them, and how much they mean to me. To look my grandfather in the eye, and tell him I love him. That for all of his character flaws, and all of the poor decisions he's made in the past, that I still admire him and respect him. I was planning on sitting down and hearing some more of his WWII stories, because I only remember one other time in my life that I had the chance to do that with him before. I don't know why it's been so long since I've told them these things. I just want him to hold on for one more month, and I'm pretty sure that he doesn't have it left in him to do it.
And I've wanted to see Pastor Adam again, too, mainly because of the extra helping of joy that he brought to our house when he stayed with us in 2006. I didn't have a time table for the next time I'd see him, though, because it's not so easy for either of us to get to where the other one lives. We'll see if we actually get to see each other next year, but I pray that it does indeed work out so we can.
So here I sit, processing two very different phone calls. And this seems to be what adult life is all about: Moments of sorrow and moments of joy, and learning that sometimes they ride into your life simultaneously. And the only way to keep those moments from tearing you in two is to lean into God even more, and trust that his strength and peace will carry you through... | | |
| I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Sure, it's Easter, and there's plenty to do at church to prepare for four services. However, the reason I'm looking forward to it is because I'm not involved in any of that this year. I was asked, but I said no, and I'm really glad that I turned the request down. In years past, for Easter and Christmas, I've been involved somehow, whether by playing the drums or acting. But this time around, I had to pass it by.
This may not come as a surprise to anyone, but it was news to me when I finally made the realization that I've been running on empty for a while now. I've kept plugging away at church, work, and home, but I haven't been fully involved for the most part. Mentally, physically, and spiritually, I'm spent. I haven't been sleeping particularly well, and I've become pretty much sedentary for the most part. I just haven't had the energy to do anything.
At work, I've kept showing up and doing as much work as I can, but my productivity has waned considerably. What would normally take me 30 minutes has been taking me anywhere from an hour to 90 minutes. he little energy that I've been able to muster for playing the drums at church has sapped me. Anyone can attest to the fact that after I was done playing, I haven't gone out to sit through the message for a couple of months now. Instead, I've wandered into the back room and collapsed on a couch until the next service started. It has been completely draining.
And so, when they asked me to be involved with this year's Easter drama, I said no. I didn't really explain my reasons to anyone, but ultimately I said no because I just don't have it in me to do it right now. I've also taken Monday off from work, so I can have three solid days of rest. Nikki is serving and won't be at home a whole lot this weekend, so my current plan is to sleep as much as possible. I'm planning on going to the Saturday evening service, but if I don't have the energy to go, then I won't. I'm certainly not going on Sunday morning. It may sound sacrilegious, but I just don't have it in me to be around that many people.
I don't quite understand why I've been running so low on energy lately. Perhaps I'm still mentally reeling from being passed over for the financial job at Bridgeway. I know that I had an adverse reaction to the news that I didn't get it, but perhaps I've underestimated just how deep that wound went. It seems strange to even call it a wound, but if I'm still recovering from it three months later, then maybe that's exactly what it is.
It will be so nice to sleep this weekend. Assuming, of course, that I will actually be able to sleep... | | |
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